Harry Potter and the Great Dragoon
by H2OSorceress
Summary: The evil sorceress is being revived. The most powerful being that has and ever shall walk Earth has been called upon to stop her along with the famed Golden Trio and others. He, the owner of the greatest known name in the wizarding world is far from dead and perhaps, his time and king, will come again. [Basically all HP characters and the listed Merlin ones.]
1. Prologue

A/N: This will be based up to season 4 (not including spoilers or deleted scenes), after that it will only say that everyone all died, except Merlin. Why he didn't, will be explained later in the story. This is set after the Harry Potter 7th book, without the 19-year flash-forward. Also, I hope no one minds that I set the series now in 2012 because I wouldn't know how to write when it was really set in the 1990's.

Disclaimer: No one will let me buy _Harry Potter_ or _Merlin_. Maybe I can buy Colin Morgan (comment from QuillSilver:That's illegal...)…He's AWESOME! (By the way I will not do that! He is awesome though.)

All this translates from H2OSorceress speak to English: I don't own _Merlin_ or _Harry Potter_. I want to, but I don't. Colin Morgan is AWESOME!

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Prologue-The New Professor

If anyone were to look upon the road between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts on the evening of September, they would see an elderly man with the stereotypical long white hair and beard of a wizard walking along. He had mysterious, mischievous, and kind cobalt blue eyes. This man was wearing a long, loose-fitting red robe and holding a twisted wooden staff.

Every once in a while he stopped and rubbed his back, as if he were not used to the aching of age. If one were to listen closely, they would just about make out his muttering to himself as he strode along the gravel trail to the castle above.

_Thud. __Thud_. _Thud_. His staff hit the gravel with each step. He walked with more agility than most his age. Then again, those of his age were all dead but for him. As of then at least, only time can tell the future. Destiny or not.

He had lost, not just many close to him, but all. Yet, he still held on to hope, as so many do during trying times. The hope was of many different destinies, and some worked out, while others didn't. He himself had a new destiny to complete, though perhaps his former one would be revived soon. The elderly sorcerer's destiny was now to protect the young Harry Potter and the rest of the wizarding world from an un-known rising evil.

"Bloody aging spell!" he murmured to himself. "How Gaius was ever felt like this and was able to walk around all day, seeing patients is beyond me. I'll have to use an ache-soothing spell..."

He groaned and grunted with each quick step he took. He was a rather peculiar old man, with the wit of a sharp-tongued youngster.

"Oh yes, that's it! _Leddfu poen_*! " It didn't work. The sorcerer tried four more times before it succeeded.

"I've always been rubbish at healing spells..." he thought, sighing.

The old man had finally arrived at the grand doors of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Knocker, knocker, knocker, where is the bloody knocker? There's no knocker! How impolite! People now a days!" He took his staff in hand to replace his need of a knocker. The ear-shattering thump echoed down the cavernous halls inside the majestic castle.

"That should do it!" he muttered to himself. He waited a moment for the door to open. The man could have let himself in, the school's magical protection was nothing compared to his power (not that he'd ever say so; he was, as an old mentor once said, too modest), but that was rude. Then the door creaked opened. The sorcerer thanked the caretaker of the school, Argus Filch, for letting him in.

The elderly gentleman was not really supposed to be here, but at the same time, he was. This world believed him gone and buried, but he was far from death.

* * *

The new headmistress, Professor McGonagall finished her 'Welcome Back' speech with a moment of silence to remember those who had died in the war. Harry remembered all the sacrifices he and the others had made to stop Voldemort.

The Golden Trio were of age and therefore weren't exactly supposed to be at school, but Hermione and Professor McGonagall had both agreed on the decision of the seventh years coming back and completing their final year. It was optional, but most had appeared anyway.

When Ron heard of the repeat year, he demanded, "Why do I have to go? It's not that important!" Which got him promptly whacked hard by his mother and slapped across the face by his girlfriend. Harry wasn't so sure about going back to Hogwarts after all that had happened; he wanted to be helping to destroy the leftovers of the death eaters' movement, but he agreed anyway.

Hogwarts needed a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, even though there was less of a need for one since Voldemort's death. All of the usual asked were too busy searching for the remnants of Voldemort's movement. Only one who had been asked had not answered, the last time Harry had checked, so there was some hope.

The students and teachers alike dug into the feast. It was nice to see everyone, despite many missing faces. "Maybe, just maybe," Harry thought,"this year will go by and no one will die."

"What was with the sorting hat, 'slyest foe you'll ever meet'? We already faced down Voldemort, didn't we?" Harry just shrugged at Ron's question. Hermione opened her mouth to answer when a thunderous noise stopped her.

A rapping was heard from outside and reverberated around the room.

McGonagall stood up and motioned to Filch to see whom it was. The strict caretaker left the room, his cat, Mrs. Norris, on his heels

"I believe," announced McGonagall, "That this is our new Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Though I don't know his name, he supposedly excels at his subject." Murmurs broke out in the hall.

"Hope this one isn't another Lockhart." Ron muttered with a pointed look at his girlfriend, causing her to blush.

Filch and his demon cat pulled open the door, and in ambled the old man who had walked down the Hogwarts road. He smiled a somewhat goofy smile and walked straight up to the teachers' table.

"Hello. My name is Dragoon. I believe you asked me to be the new DADA teacher? Well, here I am."

A long time ago in a land of myth and a time of magic, the destiny of a great kingdom rested on this old man's young shoulders. His name? _Merlin_.

Now he is once again under the guise of the Great Dragoon, though this time; he needs to not save just a single person, nor a single civilization. The whole world as we know was in his hands.

Everyone had different thoughts on the year ahead, but they were all wrong except for one thing. This year at Hogwarts was going to be one of a kind.

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A/N: *Soothe pain in Welsh

I apologize if anyone is very OOC in this chapter. I think Merlin is slightly OOC. I was trying to make seem to have gone senile in all this time alone. Don't worry though he is trying to make that be believed too. He is just his normal adorable self on the inside. I don't know how often I'll update, but I will finish it even if it takes me five years, which it won't. Just wondering, if anyone does review (insert puppy dog face here) could you tell me if you want longer chapters, and how many chapters until Merlin's identity is revealed?


	2. False and True Introductions

**"OMG! I cannot believe the reaction to this story! Can you Colin?" I exclaim. I look down at Colin Morgan tied up on my floor (not gagged of course). He pulls at the ropes binding his hands and looks up at me.**

**"And Bradley said I was disturbed..." he muttered. Hehehehe! Don't worry; I have not kidnapped Colin Morgan!**

**Seriously, I could not believe the reviews! Thank you all! I can't believe a few of my favorite authors are actually following me. ME! **

**Sorry this took so long to be posted. I now have a newfound respect for authors, who write long stories, update regularly, finish it, _and_ juggle school along with it.**** As I said in the last chapter, I don't know how often I will be updating. School always comes first.**

**Transitivity Disclaimer:**

**Me = no money**

**Merlin = money**

**Me = no Merlin (WHY?)**

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**Chapter 1 - False and True Introductions**

"How are you liking the food here at Hogwarts, Professor...? What was it?" Madam Irma Pince asked the new teacher. It was the same night that the elderly sorcerer had arrived at the school of magic.

"Dragoon, just Dragoon. No fancy title." He smiled at her a smile that if it were on a younger man, it would look rather goofy. Not that it didn't look ridiculous at that moment.

"Never did like titles," Dragoon muttered under his breath, before announcing in a boisterous voice, "And the food is splendid! It is most certainly better than the rat I had once, which wasn't that bad now that I think about it..."

Silence quickly fell upon the hall. Only Dragoon was immune to his own random yet oddly startling announcement.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat giving a hard stare to all the students, in particular Ron Weasly. He looked like he was about to ask something, while his mouth was packed with food. His mother would have been so proud. Harry and Hermione, meanwhile, just shared a look of confusion. Harry thought to himself, '_That will be an...Interesting class.'_

All were disgusted at the mere thought of eating such a thing as rat. Though rat was used in potions and what not, no witch or wizard would ever _eat _it as part of a meal.

"I'm sure that that is a fascinating story _Professor_ Dragoon, but perhaps you should tell it to the students during class?" She emphasized 'professor' as to remind the older man that he was a mature adult–or so she thought (and hoped)–and therefore should be addressed like one.

"Um? Oh yes, of course! Not now. The stories I could tell you all..." Dragoon trailed off, his eyes glazed, lost in his memories. A faint melancholy smile was on his face. He quickly shook his head wiping the expression from his face and continued enjoying his non-rat meal.

The feast continued without any more interruptions.

After the entire student body had filed out to their dormitories, McGonagall beckoned Filch to the teacher's table.

"Mr. Filch, could you please show _Professor_ Dragoon where he is to teach and stay? Thank you."

Filch nodded his understanding and leering in his usual creepy way, motioned for the warlock in question to follow him.

* * *

His classroom was the size of Gaius's chambers back in Camelot, if not bigger; his personal room was a bit larger than size of his room connected to Gaius's.

The classroom was mostly empty except for the desks and usual furnishings. Both men tried to ignore the marks of the old 'teacher' from the year before. There was what appeared to be scorch marks on the floor and walls. Dragoon sighed inwardly.

Some much pain was there from his time and now. How these people were resilient enough to overcome it all reminded him of-No. He'll think of _that_ later when he was alone.

Dragoon's chambers were barren except for a four-poster bed with bedding, desk and chair, a stool, a chest, an armoire, various candle stands around the room, and his trunk. His trunk was well worn, showing signs of age, scuffles, and travel with many memories attached to each. In it was Arthur's Pendragon cloak, his old Sidhe staff, his spell book, his medical bag from Camelot, and other old mementos, some older than the trunk they were in.

The window on the far wall revealed a scarred land, yet with life returning. The main focus of the view was the lake - a very important lake, later on in this adventure.

"Extra bedding is in the chest. Will you be needing anything else, Professor?" The magic-less man asked, in his normal sulky manner, breaking the elderly sorcerer's thoughts.

"No, thank you. That will be all." Dragoon held his breath at his own dismissing of the caretaker. He was dismissing a servant of sorts. Old, painful memories bubbled to the surface from those few words. A raven-haired servant and a blond noble gradually growing into the immense shoes of Destiny together.

He sat looking out at the lake, from his window seat. If he had looked closer, he would have found that it looked familiar. He was too lost in his thoughts, though.

He was 1,388* years old. Oh, how the times have changed from those days. Everyone knows the legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, or at least they know of their names. Today, the truth of the history is so very much twisted. Sometimes it hurt too much to think back to then.

Suddenly, Merlin** broke out in laughter. _I sound like Kilgarrah!_ He thought, good-naturedly. The powerful being was immediately sobered at the memory of the dragon.

After the fall of Camelot and Arthur's and everyone else's deaths, the hatred of magic came back full force. Dragons were once again hunted, the Great ones and the new species, that were mute. Kilgarrah and Aithusa were among the victims, destroying the last part of the old religion other than him. If he were to die tomorrow, the Old Religion would fade away leaving the world in chaos. Merlin Emrys was really the only thing keeping the Old Religion alive. Even though both were thought to be in Avalon.

The Old Religion was keeping him alive in a way. When Arthur died, he was given the magic that had connected the two of them together. That was what was keeping the warlock alive. Made him immortal.

He crossed his chamber to look into the mirror and studied himself. He looked like he had when he was in the Dragoon form. Why? Because he was in that form.

Merlin usually now-a-days looked just as he did in his early years in Camelot. The same magic that had made him immortal, now kept him young. He had changed his form as not to raise questions about why a 20-year-old was given the supposedly cursed position. Not to mention, if he wanted to do some sneaking around without being recognized, being in his natural form would work much better in this scenario. Or something like that.

An owl was sent to contact him, or rather Dragoon, for the open position. The problem was that place was nonexistent. Merlin's place of stay was a small hut in the woods, appallingly similar to Morgana's, from all those years ago. The Old Religion had alerted Merlin of his need. It's hard to explain how the old religion told him... It was similar to... It sounds cliched, but a feeling in his gut. A voice calling him to Hogwarts, to protect these naive wizards from the dark corners of the Old Religion.

Merlin was getting dramatic in his old age. Very old age.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Or at least he attempted to. He had forgotten his appearance. Another change to accept.

Merlin shook himself out of his thoughts. Wallowing in self-pity and depression was a dangerous path. Just look at what had happened to Kilgarrah and his lust for revenge of his kin.

The warlock looked outside and frowned. Time had passed faster he had thought. Hopefully, he would still be able to catch Minerva (he was a professor after all, he should have certain privileges, such as calling other professors by their given names) before she retired for the night.

He paused for a moment; perhaps it wasn't a good idea. Merlin thought for a moment giving an equal argument to both sides and quickly decided to continue with his original plan. He resolutely stepped into the dimly lit hallway.

* * *

Loud boisterous laughter, odd in the new mellow atmosphere of the post-war school, was floating down the hallway. The blond quickly jumped into the nearest storage cupboard. Two students from the year below walked by, conversing and mimicking eating with a disgusted expression. Since they were in high spirits, they probably wouldn't want to see the hidden teenager. Too many bad memories on both sides from the past spring.

Draco Malfoy drew his shaking hand through his hair. _Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to come back, _The Slytherin thought, _maybe I should have stayed at home with my parents._ He quickly shook his head. _No, I made the right choice of coming back to Hogwarts, _he told himself_._

* * *

**EDIT: (CHANGED)*The Arthurian legends were based in the 600's (THANK YOU DEAR BETA), so I made Merlin born in 625. I know I had it earlier in the 400's, but that was immediately after the fall of Rome, so that is impossible...**

****For my reader's knowledge, when anyone is around Merlin that doesn't know his secret I will refer him to as Dragoon. When he's alone, thinking/remembering of his past (from his point of view), or interacting/conversing with someone who knows him as Merlin, I will refer to him as Merlin.**

**Someone(s?) said that since Merlin is older (and I mean _OLDER_) he should be better at healing spells. Thank you for telling me that! I hadn't thought of that. I will insert an explanation it in the next chapter. **

**I have taken much literary license, but if there are any major problems, please tell me. Until next time!**

**ALL READERS! THIS IS IMPORTANT, AS SHOWN BY ALL CAPS. THERE IS A QUESTION I HAVE OF YOU ALL. **

**SHOULD I INCLUDE SEASON 5 SPOILERS OF _MERLIN_? I KNOW MANY OF YOU PROBABLY HAVE NOT SEEN IT? IF SO, SHOULD IT BE MINOR OR MAJOR?**


	3. Of Foreboding Dreams and Ancient Lakes

**Hello Everyone! Miss me? Well, I haven't forgotten you all. I am just the best procrastinator of all time. So sorry for the long wait! School will be out soon so life will not be as ****hectic, thankfully. And thank you for all your offers of being my Beta, but I accepted the first offer given because I didn't think many people would offer. Not to say that the rest of you would not have been wonderful, but Emrys is Merlin has been very helpful and patient. Anyways, I am going to try to thank you all for reviewing my story. I think I will be able to just get those who I have yet to respond to, but sorry if you get another thank you. AND to all the guests out there who have reviewed I thank you now! Also, I have changed Merlin's age to 1,388 because, well I don't feel like explaining. LOOK AT THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER! Now, let the curtain rise and... GO!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Merlin, there would movies out by now. But I don't, so Colin Morgan broke my dreams when he said there wouldn't be movies. Yup. WHY?!**

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**Chapter 2 - Of Foreboding Dreams and Ancient Lakes**

Since the battle for Hogwarts hadn't been very..._kind_ to the school, Professor McGonagall was still operating out of her office from when she was a Transfiguration professor. The new one could live without one, until the renovations were complete. That reminded her she would have to call her down in the morning to sort out how she would teach the class, since the young woman had already accepted the position. Time-turners were out of the question; the poor girl had gotten enough of them in her third year. Maybe she could arrange for those classes to be on the weekends with larger groups, so the young Gryffindor could keep up with her school work. The girl in question wouldn't need to take the class because she was already beyond the curriculum from her...excessive reading.

McGonagall heard a knock on the door, she looks up, glasses perched tediously on her nose as always. The headmistress's face was lined with the stress of her new position.

"Come in," she called, glancing at the clock that read half past eleven. The tense woman wondered who else would be up at this hour.

The new professor, Dragoon, entered.

"Ah, what brings you here at this late hour?" He shuffled a bit and looked at the door, as if he was questioning whether he should do what he had come for. He took a deep breath.

"I was wondering, Minerva," the woman's eye raised at the first name's usage from, well, a _stranger_, but that didn't deter the wizard, "if I could change the curriculum just a bit." The other eyebrow was raised, surprisingly similar in manner to a long gone court physician's.

"And why would you be wondering that?" She asked in reply, not trying to hide her dubiousness.

"Because students get enough from meetings of the DA and frankly, I think we all have had enough of defense against the dark arts from last year." McGonagall tilted her head in thought.

"What do you propose to teach, then?"

"Defense against the Dark Arts... of _the Old Religion_."

"Come again? The...Old Religion?"

"The Old Religion, as in the magic of Morgana... and...Merlin." Now, she was paying attention.

"I wasn't aware there was a difference...And why couldn't this be a history course?" He smiled slightly, now acting as well as appearing old and weary for the first time since she met him.

"Because I am the only one who can teach it._ Because I practice the Old Religion_. And no offense to Professor Binns...I can actually keep a class _attentive_."

Ignoring the comment about the ghost professor, she immediately latched on to his second statement.

"You do? Well, I suppose it sounds as if this idea would profit for the students and it would give them a wider variety of magic and defense needed... I approve; however, I do want constant updates and your lesson plans before you use them. I also will be attending your first class. Agreed?"

He chewed it over for a few moments, and eventually nodded in agreement. Dragoon turned to leave the room.

"Oh...would you do me a favor?" He looked back, curiously.

"Depends...What might it be?"

"Would you become the new head of Gryffindor?"

"I'm not too...new to become it?"

"Perhaps, but the other teacher is not ready to...take that amount of charge."

"Of course. Might I inquire who was the previous head? Besides you of course." McGonagall raised an eyebrow but cracked a smile.

"...Hagrid."

"Oh...Um, well thank you for offering."

"And _thank you_ for accepting."

* * *

As Merlin neared his new chambers, he felt a tug in his gut. He paused for a moment.

The same feeling that had called him to Hogwarts, was now calling once again. To...the lake? He had not thought much the body of water when he had passed by on his way up to the school. It had appeared like any other lake, perhaps a bit magical because of its vicinity to the school.

A sharp pain in his right knee brought Merlin out of his thoughts. He sighed. Gaius had always made old age look easy.

The worst part was most of the pain reducing spells and similar enchantments were practically useless to Merlin. The not-so-young warlock wasn't any good at them because he hadn't needed the use of them being a recluse and an immortal. Magic always became distorted without use and he hadn't need to use its healing power since Camelot existed. Another reason was him being...well, _Merlin_. He was born to protect and serve Arthur, so he had a different kind of Magic, more useful on the battlefield than in the Physician's quarters. Killing and healing didn't always get along well together in magic. He usually got by with the non-magical ways he had learned form Gaius. At the same time, it didn't make sense because at points in time Arthur needed magical-healing, but hey, blame Destiny. It always worked for Merlin.

Magic and Destiny. That brought him back to the feeling and the lake. Perhaps the lake wasn't what it appeared.

Both feelings that had called him to someplace could only be explained by one thing. The Old Religion.

Now, _that_ brought back memories.

The Old Religion was identifiable by the Welsh chants that went along with the spell-casting. Meanwhile, modern magic was spoken in a more Latin type language. This was because after the fall of Camelot, most of the Old Religion began to fall as well. Modern Magic swept in, hiding in the shadows of the New Religion for both originated from Rome, and over took the crumbling ancient empire of magic. Does this make more sense?

Stopping, he looked down. He had arrived.

A glow began to pulse from the lake. Slowly a figure began to float up out of the water. Merlin held his breath.

"No..It couldn't be..." he breathed.

Freya glided to him and smiled slightly.

"It is good to see you again...Merlin."

"H-...How?"

"The Lake of Avalon has moved around over time with decline of the Old Magic. It now rests in the place were magic is still strongest in Albion. Hogwarts. I follow it, for I am its Keeper and Protector." Merlin took what she had said in slowly. Suddenly, he leaped forward and tugged the spirit close in with a hug, surprisingly agile in his elderly form.

"I have missed you Freya," he chocked out.

"I've missed you too Merlin, but we have bigger issues to focus on," she said apologetically. He regretfully let her go, nodding, and swiped at his eyes with his sleeve.

"You've felt it, then?" She asked.

"Yes, that's why I took up this post here," Merlin explained. "It isn't... her, is it?"

Freya sighed, her eyes downcast in regret.

"I'm afraid so. Morgana is rising again. And this time, the Wizarding and Muggle worlds are in no way prepared."

* * *

_The few death-eaters who had still managed to allude capture crept down a passage way covered with cobwebs and dust from centuries of non-use to underneath __certain witch's _hovel.

_The shortest one bent down and looked at the floor._

_"Soon, mistress. Soon you will rise and not just ascend Camelot's throne but the the world's as well. While Voldemort had failed at showing Muggle's and Blood traitors their place, you will succeed. Soon, mistress, soon..."_

Harry sat straight up in bed.


End file.
